The Cloak
by Freaking Cage
Summary: Yuffie, cold and disgruntled, wonders about Vincent's ominous fashion sense. One-shot, Yuffentine.


Disclaimer: If I owned FFVII, Zack would have LIVED Goshdammit.

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She hated that cloak.

Did he ever even wash it? And had he heard of a tailor? It was forever marred with tears and some substances Yuffie refused to even think about.

Wrinkling her nose and shifting her hips a bit, she settled down more comfortably into the couch as she tried to find sleep. Seemed like it was hiding beneath a large rock at the moment. She sighed, aggravated, and tried to think of something other than the shredded piece of fabric her friend held on his shoulders like a morbid reminder of his brooding mood.

That cloak was the opposite of everything she liked. She liked shiny things. Things that glinted from the bottom of the river on a summer day, something new and exciting she could play with without fear of breaking it. She liked things that popped, fizzed and scorched, tingling her brain with a giddy feeling, much like a child on Christmas.

She did not like things that were dirty. She didn't like things that were too old, things that had so much trauma to them. _History,_ Vincent would call it, and Yuffie snorted at the thought. _History belongs in a museum, _she remembered saying, _Not in the fashion market._

Yuffie tucked her feet under her rear, trying to keep them warm from the bitter cold of winter that had recently settled into Midgar. Everyone was staying over at Cloud and Tifa's for the holidays, and they'd run out of beds for everyone. Yuffie scowled as she remembered distinctly scouting for a particularly nice one, but had been kicked out of by nightfall.

_Cloud and Tifa can get so touchy sometimes..._she mumbled to herself. She wiggled in her uncomfortable position and snorted her discontent.

"Yuffie." a deep voice called to her from below. Peeking open one eye she darted it around the room until finally it grew accustomed to the dark and settled on a long form resting below her on the floor.

"_Vincent._" she mumbled back.

"Keep still. It's after midnight." he chided, husky voice floating through the air like the snowflakes outside.

"I'm cold." she whined, burying her face in the fabric beneath her nose. "And don't even think about saying anything about joining me pervert." A chuckled resounded throughout the room, and despite herself Yuffie's lips curled up into a small smile.

"Just try to sleep." he said, and became silent once more.

Yuffie tossed and turned a bit more, but did her best not to disturb her sleeping partner below her. This dratted weather! They could be in Costa del Sol right now but _noo.._.Darn Cloud and his lack of a real job! Tifa wasn't able to make enough to pay the steep rent the beach cottage demanded, and so right now it was being rented out to some rich snobs Yuffie didn't care to remember the names of.

She gave a short sigh and tried to remind herself of the positives. _At least we won't have to fly...yech._ Yuffie shuddered not from the chill this time, but from the thought of being thousand of feet in the air. Her stomach nearly dry heaved thinking about it. Turning over as quietly as possible she looked at the clock on the wall behind her. 2:35 a.m. Yuffie moaned a bit, thinking she would have to stay in bed for at least 4 more hours before the rest of the party would rise from their _warm, toasty, properly-sheeted mattresses._

_Positives._ She reminded herself. Well, either way she was glad to have everyone around again. Being a bit of a bird herself, Yuffie was forever traveling from one place to the next in search of adventures and challenges. Not to mention the occasional belongings to steal. So having one holiday that everyone agreed to celebrate was something she looked forward to every year. She missed her friends. Cloud, Barrett, Tifa, Reeve, those cute kids...heck, she even missed Cid.

_And Vincent_. Removing her stare from the window bathed in white cold and black sky, she looked down to see the deep breathing man on the floor beside her. Using an arm as a pillow, he slept soundly despite the fact he was resting on solid wood panels and had nary a blanket on him, his signature cloak included. Yuffie would've felt worse for snatching his cloak if he didn't look so darn _comfortable_ right now. Dark hair covered most of his white skin, and Yuffie thought passingly that he must be comfortable in this weather. Almost without thought her hand reached out from her guarded (and warm) chest to glide her hands through his silky dark hair. Smiling as she did so, she thought she'd never felt anything as smooth as Vincent's hair.

Lucky for her he had never noticed her affinity for touching it. She inwardly scoffed as she thought off all the times she'd gotten away with the act. She thanked Leviathan for the deft fingers she'd received through her adventurous youth. Letting her fingers rest for only a moment longer she brought her hand back and pulled Vincent's cloak around her tighter.

Frowning, Yuffie began trailing back to her original thoughts. This cloak was so _coarse_. A depressing blood-like color, creepy limiting belts all over, and ragged at the finish, Yuffie would never understand the appeal to it. But then, breathing in deeply the musky smell of Vincent Valentine, she remembered why she'd struggled so hard to keep it with her that night.

The end

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A/N: First Yuffentine, so if either are out of character, don't let it brew, let me know. :)

Inspiration comes from recently watching DoC clips and admiring Vincent's cloak, but what would Yuffie think of it? So uh... :D

Have a good one.


End file.
